“We stupidly thought he was too injured to ride. Can the stable be locked after we put up the animals?” He released her gloved hand and stepped away.
“There’s a padlock somewhere. Maybe Rob knows. Let him do the heavy lifting. You are not to use that arm. I feel guilty enough as it is.” And angry that everyone thought she was helpless. And grateful because, actually, she felt lost right now. She’d relied too much on Brydie’s courage all these years. She didn’t look back as she hustled Lynly to the kitchen door.
After barking at Rob to unharness the horses, Fletch ran ahead to take her key and elbow her aside to unlock the back door. “He could have broken in. We need to search.”
Kate hated the idea of living in fear in the home she’d considered her secure castle all her life. She’d grown up here, spent her married life here. To think a stranger might drive her out. . . was unbearable.
Not that the major was a great deal better than a stranger, but people she trusted had faith in him, and he’d hurt himself protecting them last night. Besides, how much danger could he be? He only had one useful arm.
In the kitchen, she picked up an iron skillet and a carving knife and followed him through the house, testing doors and windows. She opened wardrobes. He looked under beds.
“I feel ridiculous, hunting for the boogeyman,” she said in disgust.
After they’d searched the four upstairs bedrooms, Fletch climbed to the attic and Kate returned to the kitchen, where Lynly was already stirring the banked embers and adding kindling.
“Thank you, darling. Do we have any carrots left? Spring greens are lovely, but a man like the major can’t last long on leaves.” Kate tied on an apron, glancing out the window to be certain Rob was safe.
Knowing they were behind locked doors relieved some anxieties. It didn’t help with others.
The larder was nearly bare. She didn’t know how much longer she could feed her children. The peas wouldn’t be ready for weeks. Sorrel and green onions weren’t very filling. They still had a few jars of onions and cabbage Brydie had pickled last fall, plus some dried peas. Her sister had sent them home with a fresh loaf of bread. They still had a bit of salted ham. They wouldn’t starve, but it didn’t make the kind of hearty meal the major was accustomed to eating in Rafe’s kitchen.
Fletch didn’t appear to mind—or even notice. Kate discreetly cut up everything in advance so he need only fork or scoop it on his bread. He methodically worked through everything while Kate questioned the children about their day. It wasn’t too different from having George at the table, except Fletch was intimidatingly twice her late husband’s size and ate enough for an army.
This would never work. They needed to find her wretched brother-in-law and send him away so she could breathe again.
“Aunt Brydie says our cousin’s funeral will be tomorrow.” Rob shoveled a spoonful of pickled cabbage onto his bread, as the major was doing.
Ana Marie, poor Ana Marie. “I haven’t heard from her children. I hate to bury her without a proper turnout, but I suppose we can’t impose on the manor any longer.” Kate pushed her food around, trying to make sense of. . . what? A lunatic on the loose and two women falling on stairs?
“The church ought to have a resting place for the deceased.” Fletch cleaned his plate with his bread. “It’s our only communal building.”
“The village needs many things, including a town council to collect taxes to pay for communal buildings.” Kate scraped her food onto Rob’s plate and stood to clear the dishes.
Fletch rose to help her. Kate pointed him at the dish cabinet. “Plates for pudding.”
He raised his thick eyebrows but did as told. “Thought Sutter was working on creating a village charter.”
“He is. Since the Bartletts have no heirs other than Rafe’s wards, they gave their old bakery to the village.” Rafe’s wards certainly didn’t need a tumble-down cottage and ancient ovens. The entire shire knew the children had trust funds worth more than the village. “Damien can’t register the deed until there is a legal entity to sign for it.”
“I miss Aunt Brydie.” Lynly brought out the walnut cake from the larder. “We should all go live with her at the Hall.”
Except even Brydie and Damien didn’t want to live in the haunted manse across the lane. Kate suppressed a shudder and horrid memories. “Your Uncle Damien wants to sell the Hall, and Brydie needs to be in town so she can start the ovens early.”
“Had I known there was cake, I’d not have eaten so much.” Distracting from the gloomy conversation, Fletch admired the large slice set before him and waited politely for Kate to sit. “I’ll have Rafe put together a meal for tomorrow. I don’t like being a burden.”
Tomorrow? Kate tried to hide her dismay. “You don’t think Rafe will find Hugh soon?”
“I think your lunatic got the message that the captain is more likely to arrest him than invite him to tea. But who knows how madmen think?”
Much more of this, and Kate feared she’d learn. “Rob, did you find the lock and secure the stable?”
Mouth full of cake, her son merely nodded.
After the meal, Kate and Lynly cleaned up. Since the major hadn’t brought his rifle with him, he and Rob went in search of weapons. Rob was thrilled to be included in this adult activity. Kate couldn't discourage them. Besides, it might be wise to gather all the antiquated weaponry George and her father had used on vermin and heave it out. They had no need to keep foxes from sheep they no longer had.
Once the kitchen was clean, the artillery gathered, and the children completing their schoolwork, Kate headed for the stairs to prepare a room for their guest. She halted in the parlor to watch the fool man shoving her huge horsehair sofa in front of the door, with only one arm. “Major! What are you doing?”
Unrepentantly, he adjusted the sofa's position with his hip. “Until the lock is fixed, this is your weakest point. I've nailed a bolt in place, but I prefer to be awake if someone tests it.”
